My puffy green jacket was the least stylish garment I could wear this weekend.
At least it kept me warm during Paris’ windy and damp February—isn’t la mode supposed to be all about functionality?
Besides, we came for the food.
We almost didn’t make our Friday evening reservation, though.
Eurostar pulled in Gare Du Nord just in time for the rush hour traffic exacerbated by the global fashionistas commuting to the shows we weren’t going to attend.
But after hopping on the metro, we witnessed a spontaneous, trendy display.
Parisians from all walks of life, from traditional North African to urban fabulous to mime chic, served style on the moving runaway.
So much so that we almost missed our stop at Le Marais, where we promptly checked in Hotel Duo, changed into boring but Michelin star-appropriate button shirts, and headed out to Restaurant Pages.
Chef Teshi’s spot seemed too bright initially, but I soon realized the lighting worked perfectly with the immaculately white walls, smartly dressed staff, and delicately executed French/Japanese cuisine.
A frosty city greeted us the following day. Chinese lanterns commemorating the Lunar New Year lined Rue Chapon on our way to a new favorite: Parcelles.
The child of a bubbly French couple, the restaurant/store was established right before the pandemic and thrived by keeping Parisians fed and boozed via delivery.
Smily servers approach your table, happy to translate the menu and make food and wine recommendations from their inventory and beyond—something only those extremely confident about their offering can do.
Brunch warmed our hearts and fueled us with calories for a chilly stroll.
We saw Instagram models posing next to the Louvre Pyramid and tourists taking selfies against the Yayoi Kusama installation at the Louis Vuitton Champs-Élysées store.
As temperatures continued to decrease that evening, we corroborated that no one makes comfort food like the French.
A warm staff, top-notch wine, and succulent roasted lamb shoulder with seasonal vegetable casserole welcomed us to an old favorite: Le Villaret.
On Sunday noon, we enjoyed a walk through the neighborhood.
The advanced stage of Notre Dame’s restoration was reassuring, as was spotting the Hôtel de Ville decked out with the Olympic Rings in anticipation of the Paris 2024 Summer Games.
Next, we were off to the 15th arrondissement, home to Le Cagouille, our last culinary stop before catching the Eurostar back to London.
One of the world’s freshest fish and seafood restaurants, with superb wine pairings, is also the best spot to watch the locals enjoy Sunday brunch with their friends and families.
Seeing kids on the neighboring tables tackling coloring books instead of iPads made our day.
Back in Gare du Nord, we realized beautiful creatures had invaded the place.
Supermodels of all genders and races looked even more stunning, fresh off couture, waiting for the train like the other mortals.
They rubbed off us with some of the glitz and glamour of this ever-magical and romantic City of Light.
One thought on “Isn’t Always Fashion Week in Paris?”
Making me hungry!!